


Quarantine

by NYWCgirl



Category: White Collar
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Major Illness, Medical Procedures, Self Cannibalism, deadly disease, talking about death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-10
Updated: 2014-12-10
Packaged: 2018-02-28 21:53:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2748458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NYWCgirl/pseuds/NYWCgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This story was written for the 2014  whitecollarhc Advent Calendar.</p>
<p>Prompt by Pipilj: Peter and Neal have been quarantined after being exposed to some virus. Would love to see how they pass the time and deal with the isolation. An added bonus would be if they fall ill. Would prefer gen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quarantine

**Author's Note:**

> I want to thank sheenianni, who was generous with her precious time to beta this story.   
> The mentioned diseases Brainpox is purely fictional.   
> CDC stands for Center of Disease Control.
> 
> This story was originally posted at http://nywcgirl.livejournal.com/15422.html

“No, please, let me see him.” Neal pleaded weakly. He was looking through the window that separated the two rooms.

Peter was in the other room, surrounded with medical staff wearing hazmat suits. They looked alien with their overpressure suits and protective gear. Peter was babbling incoherently and tried to fight off the hands that were touching him. He was calling out for El.

Neal could see they were restraining him to the bed.

“Please, let me comfort him. His wife is not allowed in and he is asking for her.” Neal felt his own fever raging inside him. He started hitting the glass window and suddenly he was grabbed from behind and pulled away from the window. He felt a pinprick in his arm and everything went black.

 

* * *

 

6 weeks earlier.

 

Peter and Neal had been asked to assist on a case that was until then handled by Violent Crimes and Counterterrorism.

Ruiz had a case that involved a domestic terrorist group that called themselves ‘The Centennial Group’. Until now the group had been on the radar because they were stocking up weapons. But there had been rumors in the streets that they were suspected of producing bio terror weapons, which they sold to the highest bidder.

The FBI acknowledged that the group posed a real treat and Homeland Security got involved.

Peter and Neal were called in a meeting by Hughes, who explained that Ruiz had asked for their expertise. They needed people on the inside, but as the group was not welcoming to outsiders, they would first try to plant one agent.

The group was supposedly in need of another biochemist. Unfortunately, Homeland Security was currently running a big operation on another radical group and the few agents that would qualify to go undercover were already on assignment. All agencies involved had checked in their ranks, but they didn’t have anyone available for immediately deployment.

Neal on the other hand…

“No, absolutely not. Let’s face it, these guys are bioterrorists, they will sniff out anyone that isn’t working for their cause. Besides, Neal isn’t even a scientist.” Peter sounded genuinely concerned.

“Well, allegedly I may have posed as a bio engineer in Prague during a convention…” Neal trailed of before he could incriminate himself.

Hughes spoke up. “Do you think you can pull this off, Caffrey? These are not some white collar criminals, these are ruthless people who will kill to reach their goal.”

Neal just nodded. “I can do it.”

It was decided that the FBI would construct an alias for Neal that could pass the suspicion of the group. However, Peter still had doubts.

“Why are they considering Neal for this case? He doesn’t even have the right qualifications. There must be someone else who can do it.”

“I have a friend who is an Associate Professor in Biochemistry at New Paltz. I will talk to him and get him to train Caffrey if that will ease your worry.” Hughes offered.

“Reese, I have a bad feeling on this case.” Peter sounded worried.

“SAIC Hughes, with all due respect, I read Mr.Caffrey’s file, he didn’t even finish high school. How is he supposed to convince the Centennials that he is a scientist?” the Homeland Security officer, agent Merriam asked.

“Let me talk to my friend first, if anyone can teach Caffrey, he will. I’m sure the kid will surprise you.” Hughes gave Peter a confident smile.

Hughes set up a meeting between his friend and Neal to see if they could pass Neal as a biochemist.

“Mr. Caffrey, nice to meet you. My name is Robert Ho and Mr. Hughes asked me to teach you biochemistry. I will be blunt, I don’t think it can be done. I came here as a favor to Agent Hughes, but I don’t want to waste both our time on something with no chance of success.”

_Ah, a challenge._ “Just try me, sir.”

The professor nodded. “A pop quiz, then. Tell me what is blunt end DNA and name at least one enzyme that can produce it.”

Feeling Peter and Hughes’s eyes on him, Neal thought back of the lectures he had attended in Prague. Then he smiled when he realized he actually knew the answer. “Blunt ends means that both strands of the DNA molecule terminate in a base pair,” he said confidently. “As for an enzyme, I believe ecoRV would be a good example.”

Mr. Ho lifted his eyebrows. “Well, that is something at least. Very well, Mr. Caffrey, you got yourself a teacher.”

Neal shot Peter a blinding smile, while Hughes gave him a nod of grudging approval. It looked like they were on.

 

* * *

 

Neal’s cheer vanished soon when he was told what he had to learn over the coming weeks.

It took him three weeks to get trained by Robert. By then, Neal had a basic knowledge of workings in the lab and more specific about his background. It had taken him ten hours a day in the lab of the University and even more long hours at home cramming information into his head. He had seriously underestimated the amount of knowledge that was needed to pull this off.In the rare moments when he wasn’t memorizing yet another book on DNA, RNA or viruses, Mozzie would drop by to drill him on information radical groups and how they operated, depleting Neal’s wine collection in the process.

“Explain the principle of restriction fragment length polymorphism,” said Robert on the last day.

“When the DNA is treated with restriction enzymes, different length fragments of DNA are obtained depending on locations of restriction sites. The fragments can then be separated by electrophoresis.” Neal gave Robert a big smile.

“Was that correct?” asked Peter with a frown.

“’Course it was,” replied Neal victoriously. “I did it, Peter.”

“That’s not - you can’t “learn” biochemistry in _three weeks_. It takes years of studying; hard work, dedication…” Mr. Ho was obviously flustered.

“I know, professor,” replied Neal seriously. He paused. “Do I know enough to fake it?”

“Maybe. Possibly.” The professor sounded a bit mollified. “You _did_ work hard over those last few weeks. Given the short timetable, I guess you’re as ready as you can be.”

“I’d never get there without your help.”

The professor smiled. “Good luck, Mr. Caffrey.”

It was finally time to set things in motion.

 

* * *

 

The FBI had Neal set up in an old building where they had built a state of art laboratory. Homeland Security had intel that the group was searching for someone had could aerosolize a biological agent. Information was fed in the streets that Niall Cafferty was the man to go to if one needed a specialist.

According to his alias, Niall was a once-promising biogenetics student until the university had found out that he had been faking his research data in order to get more funding. Once thrown out of university, he had kept researching while blaming the establishment for his failure to get a diploma and becoming a renowned scientist.

Neal was working in his lab, when suddenly three men entered it. Neal didn’t look impressed and asked them who they were and what they wanted. While he was talking to the men, he knew Peter was listening in, as the lab was wired with cameras and microphones. Peter would have seen the car or van they came in and the men were on tape, so Neal was fairly confident the FBI could find out who these men were.

“Your presence is requested,” one of the men said.

Neal noticed that they still hadn’t said who they were or what they wanted, but he decided to play along.

“Well, tell whoever is requesting my presence that I’m not a delivery service.” Neal was playing it cool. The stakes were high and he couldn´t expect backup, as they suspected that the group would be extremely paranoid.

The first man pulled out a gun and pointed it at Neal, while the second walked up to Neal and pulled his hand behind his back. They cuffed him with zip ties and pulled a bag over his head. Neal was then pulled out of the lab in what he suspected a van they had at the ready.

“Whoa! Come on guys, just tell me what you want. I’m sure we can work something out.”

“Shut up.”

They drove for what Neal estimated to be an hour. When the van stopped, Neal was pulled out and his hood was removed, leaving him blinking at the harsh outdoor lighting.

“Welcome Mr. Cafferty. I’m sorry for the theatrics, but I needed to be sure that you would come. I couldn’t come to you myself.”

Neal blinked. They hadn’t known that the leader was a woman. He soon learned that her name was Mary Johanson.

“As you may or may not know, we are a community that is in need of a biochemist. And word on the street is that you’re the man to go to.“

“Well, I’m flattered, but we could have done this without the unpleasantness of it all. How can I help?” Neal gave her his most charming smile. Mary only smiled back coldly, the smile not reaching her eyes.

“We will discuss this soon enough, let’s first have dinner.” With that Mary walked away with Neal quickly following her.

 

* * *

 

Mary insisted Neal stayed at the compound of the group while he worked for them.

“The accommodation here is better than where I was staying, so yeah, no problem. I do however have an appointment with a business associate. Is it OK if I text him to cancel? You can read the message if you like. He is a valuable contact, so maybe we need him in the future.” Neal smiled at Mary confidently. It wasn’t a lie, Mozzie would be able to help.

“OK, give me the number”

Neal quickly gave one of Mozzie’s emergency numbers, knowing that Mozzie would get rid of it the moment the message came in.

“My apologies Mr. Harolde, I’m fine, but I have a family emergency and will not be able to attend our meeting.” Neal assumed that this would be sufficient proof of life for Mozzie and Peter.

Neal quickly settled in the rhythm of life with the Centennials. But because the group didn’t trust him to go out by himself, Neal hadn’t managed to get more intel to Peter.

The leader was, as expected, suspicious of the new guy. She had tested him in and outside the lab, asking Neal’s point of view on environmental issues, the government and especially politics. But Neal had shown that he had genuine knowledge and experience with lab work and that he was just as disappointed in certain parts of the government as she was.

It was obvious that Mary didn’t trust the government; even worse, she held a grudge. Over the weeks, Neal was able to charm her. During one of their breaks working in the lab she had told him that her husband was soldier, but unfortunately he had gone missing in action and the army hadn’t recovered him yet. When her husband went MIA, Mary was confident that the army would try to rescue him. However, she soon found out that the army’s priorities were not looking for their missing men. She had pleaded with them to search for him but was stonewalled and eventually became disappointed in the military establishment.

Slowly, her disappointment had festered into anger. Mary believed the government had failed her family. At first, she had started going to protest marches against the war. During theses gatherings, she found comfort with the other families but also met others that were more determined in their goals. While Mary had spent the family savings on private contractors to find her husband, she became more radical and paranoid. She started stocking up on food supplies and bought more guns to protect her family, as she was convicted that the government wouldn’t. She would take care of her family, so she kept them from school and started them on home teaching. That was when she started gathering like-minded people around her.

At some point, the Child Protective Services had become concerned and had come to see Mary at her house. The routine visit had turned serious when they noticed several unsecured guns at her house. Mary was close-mouthed about what exactly had happened in the aftermath, but she was clear on one thing – the CPS had snatched her children from her. With her children in foster care, Mary had become a very bitter and determined woman.

Neal felt sympathy for her, losing her loved ones, yet he knew she had to be stopped before she did something that couldn’t be fixed.

At first, the Centennials only had Neal do general lab work, but that was not why they had contracted him. When Mary asked him if he could help them make a virus into a version that could survive once it was airborne, Neal had explained that it would be difficult but not impossible. Neal studied the virus in length and told her that he needed a special protein that would possibly make it airborne. Neal said that he had connections in the underground science groups that could provide him with a sample for the right price.

Mary allowed him to make the necessary phone calls.

The next day while Neal prepared to go to the meeting place, Mary told her first man to accompany him. Frank would protect Neal if anything wouldn’t go as planned, he would of course also make it impossible for Neal to contact anybody on the outside.. Neal said he was OK with this and took a seat in the car.

When they arrived at the meeting point, Neal smiled. From the pickup, Mozzie appeared.

“Mr. Harolde, good to see you.” Neal welcomed Mozzie. “You have the goods I ordered?”

“Mr. Cafferty, always a pleasure. Yes, the goods are in the back.”

Mozzie opened the lid of the pickup and revealed a cryogenic drum.

“As ordered, you know the price.” Mozzie closed the lid again.

“We want it. Frank, pay him the ten thousand dollars.”

“You know Niall, did anyone ever tell you, a suit would look good on you.” Mozzie said quietly.

“So I’ve been told. It was nice doing business with you.”

And with that Mozzie got in the car and drove away.

 

* * *

 

Now that Neal had shown his worth, Mary wasn’t so suspicious anymore, and Neal was allowed to move more freely through the compound. Mary was charmed by Neal and sometimes when they were alone in the lab, she would tell him about her family.

Neal in the meantime was working in the laboratory, studying scientific texts and snooping around trying to find evidence of possible treats. It was not that difficult to pretend to be researching and checking facts in medical databases. It was how Neal had gotten most of his knowledge on different subjects in the past.

Unfortunately he had no way to pass any information to Peter. He had been undercover for six weeks, when they had a breakthrough. One of the members got hurt in the laboratory and Neal offered to bring him to hospital after having given him first aid. Luckily Robert had also taught him lab safety and first aid covering chemical burns, so he was allowed to accompany the victim to the hospital. While they were taking care of him in the ER, Neal managed to pick pocket a phone and call Peter.

“Peter?.”

“ _Neal, what’s wrong_?” Peter sounded worried.

“Nothing, I have to be quick, I’m at the hospital as one of the lab workers had an accident. I have proof that The Centennials are working on a bio weapon.”

“ _OK, I will come and pick you up. Which hospital_?

“I can’t leave now, Mary will be suspicious and probably get rid of any evidence. I have to go back and maintain my cover. When you raid the place, just arrest me with the others.”

“ _No, that is too dangerous, I’m pulling you out.”_

“Peter, trust me. I’m going back, it’s the only way. Get a team ready to make the arrests. I’ll be waiting for you. I’ve got to go.”

Without giving Peter an opportunity to reply, Neal hung up.

After the victim was treated, Neal escorted him back to the compound. If he left now, Mary would become suspicious and Neal didn’t want to jeopardize the operation.

Besides, he trusted Peter. Everything would be just fine.

 

* * *

 

Peter had enough evidence that the group was planning a terrorist attack to get a warrant and a tactical team was assembled to raid the compound. There was no way to contact Neal on the inside. Since they couldn’t warn him about the imminent raid, Peter made sure that everyone knew about Neal’s undercover role and that they should be on the lookout for him.

All the teams were briefed for a last time, agents getting ready in their assault gear and the countdown had started with Ruiz in charge of the FBI agents. Peter was glad for it as he could now take part in the takedown and hopefully make sure Neal was alright. Peter and his team were assigned to the lab, as this was where Neal was expected to be.

Once agent Merriam gave the signal, all teams went in. Peter’s team forced their way into the lab, finding Neal at one of the fume cupboards with his hands in the air.

Diana and Jones took care of the other guy in the lab, taking him outside to the command post.

Peter felt relieved to see Neal unharmed. “Hey, I’m glad to see you’re OK.”

Neal smiled. “Yeah, good to see you. You got them all?”

“Let me check.“ Listening to his earpiece, Peter waited until it was his turn to give a report. He told the operation leader that they had arrested one Centennial member and that Neal was accounted for and in his presence. The commander told everyone to be on the lookout as Mary was not arrested yet and that they didn’t have a visual on her.

“Mary is still unaccounted for. Come on, let’s get you out of here.” Peter smiled at Neal but saw Neal’s face falter. He turned around and stiffened. Mary was staring at then with a venomous look in her eyes.

“I knew I should have trusted my instinct on you, Niall, or whatever your name is.” Mary looked betrayed.

“Mary, don’t make this more difficult than it has to be.” Peter slowly walked towards her, but she moved away from him, looking at Neal.

“I thought we had a connection, that you supported our goal. I opened up to you”

“Mary, I …” The hatred that showed on her face was something Neal had never seen before. This could not end well.

Mary’s eyes flicked to one of the spray cans they had been preparing. They contained a virus called Brainpox, an engineered disease that would infect the human brain, creating brain swelling and other unpleasant symptoms, killing the victim if not treated aggressively. It was the bioweapon Mary herself had developed; highly effective but unstable in the open air. However, the virus didn’t need to survive long if the target was right here and there – a dose of it would still be deadly.

Neal shook his head. “Mary….”

She grabbed the spray can and aimed it at Neal.

“Don’t do this, Mary. Please…” Neal pleaded, but he could see in Mary’s eyes it was to no avail.

“My name is Neal.” Neal called out, holding his hands out in a harmless gesture.

“What are you talking about?”

“You remarked that you don’t know my name. It’s Neal, and not everything I said while I was here was fake.” Neal did his best to look as sincere as he could under the situation.

“Stop talking!” she shouted.

“Mary, I really meant what I said about your kids, I totally agree that they shouldn’t have been taken from you. You’re not evil, you played the cards you got dealt. I know how it feels to lose someone you love. But you can still walk away from this. Think of your kids, Mary, please, don’t do this.”

Mary lowered the spray can and Peter moved in to apprehend her, when she suddenly raised it again and pressed down.

Peter jumped in front of Neal getting the full spray on him. Neal held his breath and pushed the lab’s lock down button and grabbed one of the filter masks putting it on Peter. He then grabbed one for himself, but was forced to breathe in before he could put the mask on himself.

After spraying the two men, Mary had turned around and ran out of the lab towards the airlock. She was still in it when Neal had hit the button and the lab went in lockdown, so she was trapped inside.

“Give me your radio, so I can contact the commander of the operation.” Neal looked wide eyed to Peter.

“Yeah sure, what was in the spray can?” Peter handed Neal the radio.

“I’m not sure you want to know.” Neal took the radio and told Ruiz to get the CDC as he expected that they were infected with brainpox. Neal saw Peter’s eyes widen when he realized the implications of being infected with a potential deadly disease.

“I’m sorry Peter, but we are not going anywhere.”

With the lab in lockdown, they were locked in so they sat down on the floor to spare oxygen, each in their own thoughts.

After a while, Peter sighed. “You know what the disease does?”

“Well, it’s an engineered disease that will infect the human brain, creating brain swelling and other unpleasant symptoms… Eventually, it kills you. I’m sorry Peter, but there’s no other way to tell this.”

They both fell back into silence, until they heard some noises. They got up and saw people in hazmat suits outside the airlock. Mary had also seen them as she was trying to get the lock to open. Suddenly there was a hissing sound, and the last thing Neal saw was Peter dropping to the floor. He never felt himself go down.

 

* * *

 

In the command post outside the compound, agent Merriam, Ruiz, Hughes and a doctor from the CDC were looking on a screen following the aftermath of the operation. They could follow what was going on inside through the cameras the CDC members wore inside their bio hazard suits.

Using the knock out gas was the only safe option Hughes and the Homeland Security commander had agreed upon. They could expect Mary to be violent, and this was a relatively safe solution. They couldn’t risk a confrontation which might result in someone else getting infected.

They could see that Mary was taken out first; she was placed on a gurney and rolled into the decontamination tent. While they took Mary away, the other CDC techs, walked over to Neal and Peter and crouched down next to them.

“Are they OK?” Hughes asked the doctor. Seeing his men being stripped from their clothes and wheeled away made him uneasy and sad.

“We will have to determine what this disease Brainpox does, once we have a better understanding, we can start treating your men and Mrs. Johanson.”

One of the techs handling the decontamination called in.

“ _We’ve decontaminated all three exposed, their vitals are strong and the sedation holds, so they are ready to be transported. Can we proceed?”_

“Yes, you can, make sure you keep monitoring all of them closely during transport, as I expect the sedation to wear off any minute.”

“What happens now?” Hughes asked.

“We will place them in special suits so they don’t present a risk to the general public and they will be transported to the CDC’s quarantine zone at JFK airport.”

“You just take good care of my men.”

“We will.” With a reassuring smile, the doc left the command post.

 

* * *

 

Neal startled back into awareness because of a loud bang.

“I’m sorry,” a tech in a hazmat suit said apologetically.

Neal lowered himself back on the bed and tried to orient himself.

“Where am I? Where is Peter?” Neal scanned the room, but it was just him and the tech.

“You’re at a CDC quarantine facility. So are the other two people that were brought in with you.”

“Can I see them?”

“No, I’m afraid not. We are not yet sure how the virus spreads or what it does exactly. I would like you to tell me when you are experiencing things that are out of the ordinary. We’ll be monitoring your vital signs, heart rate and blood pressure, but having a first-hand account is always the best.”

“Yeah sure.”

“Do you want something to eat? I suggest you eat even if you’re not feeling up to it. You will need all the strength you can get.”

“Can I have pancakes with syrup?” asked Neal.

The tech nodded. “Yes, no problem. Do you want milk or coffee with that?”

“Both please. And can I get my tablet sent over here, to kill some time.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

The tech left and Neal stared at the ceiling until someone entered the room. It was the tech again with a plate of pancakes, coffee, milk, water and a tablet.

“I talked to Mr. Burke and he asked if you could message each other. Here is a tablet, it’s not yours but you can use it. We also provided Mr. Burke with one, and we set up two addresses so you can Skype each other. His contact is already in the contact list. We can’t give you access to the other person, or so the agents told me.”

Neal stared at the tablet and ate his breakfast while the system was booting. Finally Skype came to life and Neal only saw one address: Peter Burke. He also noticed that Peter’s status was online but already talking to someone, so he opened his webmail and checked all of the mail he hadn’t gotten to during his undercover assignment.

He tried calling again an hour later. This time, Peter picked up.

“Hey Peter, how are you?” Neal gave a weak smile.

_“I’m OK, running a slight fever, but basically OK. How are you?”_

“I’m fine. Any new information on the case?”

“ _Hughes says they are negotiating to offer Mary a deal in return for the antidote_.”

“I thought the US government didn’t negotiate with terrorists?”

“ _Yeah, that is the policy. Let’s just wait what Hughes comes up with, shall we? By the way, he asked for your report from the case.”_

“Nothing like the joys of paperwork,” said Neal sarcastically. “Do you know where we are?”

Peter explained that the assistant that was with him when he woke up had told him that they were quarantined at the JFK CDC facility. Neal saw the assistant appear in the line of the camera view and then walk away again with some blood samples. A couple of moments later, he entered Neal’s room.

“I’m here to get a blood sample. How are you feeling? Everything OK?”

“I’m fine.”

The tech did his job and left Neal alone. Peter and Neal continued talking over Skype, even keeping the line open while they were doing something else. Peter had asked for some crossword puzzles and Neal read the newspaper on the tablet. Neal also wrote a big part of his report, giving the FBI some insights on the Centennials and especially Mary. He sent the draft report immediately to Hughes, not knowing how or when the disease would manifest itself. He didn’t realize it was already evening until one of the techs asked what he wanted for dinner.

“What’s on the menu?”

“Whatever you like.”

He asked for Boeuf Bourguignon with pommes dauphine and some wine. He expected some comment, but the tech just left with the order.

“I have the distinct feeling like I’m on death row as I can ask whatever meal I want and they bring it. What did you order?” Neal asked curiously.

“ _Steak with fries and a beer.”_ Peter smiled.

“Have you spoken to El? She would never approve of such a meal,” Neal chuckled.

_“Yeah, Hughes informed her and I skyped her earlier.”_ Peter got quiet after that.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” Neal trailed off. He could only imagine how Peter and El must feel at the moment, not being able to see or touch each other. Not knowing what the future would bring.

“ _It’s not your fault, it’s Mary’s. Oh good, the food is here. Oh, I guess we’re not allowed alcohol; did you get your wine? Oh, keep the line open, please. Bon appetite_.”

“My dinner comes from Le Cercle Rouge, nice. Bon appetite. And to answer your question, no, I didn't get wine, there is only a bottle of water. Next time, I’m asking for a bottle of Perrier.”

For a moment, they interrupted their talk and turned their attention to their meal.

“Have you talked to Diana and Jones, I sent my draft report earlier today to Hughes?” asked Neal a while later.

“ _No, they were busy writing their reports and finalizing the case, so I didn’t want to bother them. I will try again tomorrow. Have to spoken with Mozzie_?”

“Moz usually prefers burner phones - I don’t even have his Skype address. But I left him a message that he will get.”

After their talk, they played some online games, but neither of them was good at them, so Peter suggested playing Star Wars Angry Birds. He beat Neal by a mile and couldn’t hide his glee. Afterwards he announced that he was tired and they wished each other goodnight.

 

* * *

 

Neal woke up with a scream.

He blinked confusedly, only to realize that he was in the quarantine room. He tried to recall what had woken him up when an orderly came in to check his vitals.

“Nightmare?”

“I’m not sure, yeah, probably.” Neal was still a bit disoriented. He was trying to remember what had woken him in a sweat.

“Your heart rate, temperature and blood pressure are up. I’m giving you something to get the fever down and to rest a bit more.”

Before Neal could protest, a sedative was pushed in his IV line and he fell asleep again.

 

* * *

 

Neal woke two more times, even with the mild sedative, always in a sweat and flushed. He realized he was running a fever, which wasn’t a good sign. Eventually he woke because a nurse wanted to draw blood. She brought him two cronuts and….Italian roast? Neal almost inhaled the coffee. On the plate was a note from June and El. Neal smiled gratefully when he read that they were thinking of him and wishing him well. He turned on Skype again and waited anxiously for Peter to answer, but he didn’t. When the tech came in to clear the tray, he asked how Peter was.

“Not so good, I’m afraid. He is running a high fever and isn’t feeling well. We are doing our best to get the fever down.”

“Will he be OK?” Neal asked with unease.

“We’re doing our best, Mr. Caffrey”.

“Neal, please; call me Neal. If you know something about Peter, can you please inform me?”

“Sure”. The orderly gave him a reassuring smile.

Now that he thought about it, Neal had to admit that he wasn’t feeling that well himself. To pass time, he asked the orderly if he could have some crayons or something to draw. The orderly came back with some pencils, some blank paper and an adult coloring book. With a snort, Neal put aside the coloring book and started sketching on the blank pages.

Finally, in the afternoon, he got an incoming Skype call from Peter, which he quickly accepted.

“ _Hey_.” Peter said slowly.

“Hey yourself, you had me worried there buddy. But I’m glad to talk to you.”

“ _Bored?”_ Peter had a small smile on his lips, even though he was pale and his hair was wet from the sweat that formed on his face.

“Yeah, shall we do something?” Neal asked with a twinkle in his eyes.

“ _What are you suggesting_?” Peter was getting curious, despite his fever.

“Let’s text a random number at the FBI saying: We’ve hidden the body. Now what?”

Peter started laughing so loud, Neal could hear it through the wall. It made Neal feel a bit better, though he also felt hot. He could see that Peter had a runny nose, and moved stiffly like he had muscle pains.

“Are you OK?” he asked concerned.

“ _Yeah, just achy and tired. They have me on anti-virals. I’m going to disconnect now, cause I promised El I would Skype her_.”

“Give her my regards and a kiss.” Neal waggled his eyebrows.

“ _Goodnight Casanova_.” Peter grumbled.

A couple of minutes later, Neal got a message from an address he didn’t recognize, but it could only be Mozzie. Neal accepted the call.

“Hey, Moz.”

“ _Neal. How are you doing, mon frère_?”

“OK, I guess?”

“ _Are you being held in a secret government base? Do you want me to break you out_?”

“No, Moz, I don’t need you to break me out. But thanks for the offer. And as far as I know, we are at the JFK quarantine center.” Neal gave a weak smile. “So, how is live on the outside?”

“ _You do realize I had to buy a ’burner’ tablet, and know that I will delete this address as soon as you are OK. You know how easy one can be monitored through Skype. Their servers are a laughing stock for hackers_.”

Neal laughed when Mozzie mentioned the ‘burner tablet’; it had to be the word of the year. They talked until the nurse came in and wanted blood and a urine sample. Even over Skype Mozzie was germophobic.

Neal asked the nurse if he could get more pencils or markers and paper. An hour later, the drawing utensils were brought in and Neal asked how Peter was doing.

“His fever is back up and he had a bad headache, so we gave him something to sleep. You want some too?”

“No, I will sketch some more and see if I can sleep. Can I have some warm milk with honey?”

Drinking the warm milk made him think of Ellen. She would make it for him when he was a boy and he associated it with love and comfort. He needed some comfort food now.

Drawing familiar scenes, Peter and El, Satchmo, June with Bugsy, Mozzie, Neal didn’t realize that it was already in the middle of the night when his hand started aching. A nurse came in, as his blood pressure had increased again.

“Try to get some sleep,” the nurse said gently.

Turning to his stomach, Neal was asleep almost immediately, but it turned out to be a fitful sleep. He kept tossing, turning and babbling incoherently, and when he woke up, he was even more tired than before. His muscles and joints hurt and he had a hell of a headache, so he asked the staff for some pain relief. He was beyond pride at the moment, he wasn’t going anywhere with this disease, so what would it hurt to be comfortable. There was no reason to pretend. They were infected with brain pox and although one of the arrested Centennials had mentioned a vaccine that might help them, it hadn’t been found at the compound. Neal wasn’t even sure it existed, maybe it was Mary’s way to convince her members that infecting the population was a good idea, as she would inoculate her ’family’, and they would be spared of the disease.

Their only chance, if it existed, was Mary revealing its location as she was also infected. But deep down, Neal knew Mary would rather die than helping the establishment she loathed so much. There was nothing for her to fight for, as her husband and kids were already taken away from her.

‘Nothing worse than a woman, whose children are taken away,’ Neal thought. Maybe that could be leverage against Mary, her children, he had mentioned it in his report to Hughes. But he had also seen the hatred and the betrayal in her eyes; she would rather die than help them. They were screwed in so many ways. Neal had to admit that he never would have thought he would die this way. Jumping of a building, or being shot by some museum guard or police officer, hell, even by the hand of someone he stole from, but not in a hospital bed, not knowing what to expect.

“Breakfast?” one of the techs asked. Neal was now used to the medical staff wearing the biohazard suits. But it was still surreal to be asked what you want for breakfast by a guy basically wearing a space suit.

“Eggs Benedict with toast and coffee, please.”

The tech pushed some anti-viral in his IV and left.

All of a sudden Neal heard clamor in the adjacent room. His thoughts immediately went to Peter.

“Peter!”

Neal’s heart rate and blood pressure spiked. He jumped from the bed, pulling his IV stand with him. He wavered, but managed to grab a cupboard to stay upright. Two techs rushed in, supporting him and escorting him back to the bed.

“What is going on with Peter?”

“Your friend was agitated when he woke up earlier,” one of them said.

“Just let me see him, it’s not that we can infect each other. We’re dying, please let me comfort him.”

“I will talk to the doctors.”

“Do it, NOW.” Neal heard his own frantic voice.

The upheaval next door had died down as soon as it had started. Neal could only guess what had happened. While he waited, he picked up a permanent marker and started doodling on the white wall behind his bed. Circles, people, doodles and other random stuff. He had almost filled 3 square foot when a doctor came and asked to accompany him. When the doctor asked Neal why he was drawing on the walls, Neal stared at him in confusion. He hadn’t been aware that he had been drawing on the walls.

“I’m sorry, I…”

“Never mind, let’s see your friend.”

Grabbing his IV stand, he followed the doctor next door. Neal’s heart dropped when he saw Peter. He was laying in the bed with soft restraints, his eyes half lidded and his mouth slightly agape. He wasn’t completely out, but he wasn’t really aware either and he kept pulling on the restraints.

“What did you do to him?” Neal asked in distress.

“He was getting more and more agitated due to some hallucination. We had to restrain him,” the doctor explained. “You said that you could calm him down, give it a try.”

Neal settled next to the bed and gripped Peter’s hand and started rubbing his thumb in circles. He could hear the machines around them decreasing in tone, indicating that Peter was finally relaxing. The gesture was so hypnotic that Neal started to doze off himself.

He startled awake by a movement. He smiled and looked up to Peter, to only back away in horror. Peter was clearly dead. He was pale, almost grayish but it was the bloody gash in his throat that made Neal gasp for breath. Neal stumbled backwards, knocking over his IV stand and chair. He could see Peter’s eyes open, widening in shock. When Neal looked at his own hands, they were also bloody and he was holding a scalpel.

What had he done?

“Why?” dead Peter asked him.

But before Neal could formulate a response, two orderlies came in and manhandled him onto the bed. A doctor readjusted the IVs and injected something in Neal’s IV. The fight left Neal almost immediately.

“What’s happening to him?” asked Peter, who had been awakened by the fallen chair.

“No worries, Peter, we think Neal had a hallucination, he’ll be alright.”

Still unable to leave his bed, Peter just looked at Neal. With a frown, he watched as the orderlies prepared the same restraints that they had already used on him. Neal loved his freedom, and Peter hated to see his friend bound when he was already so sick.

“Do you have to?” he asked.

“He might try to hurt himself if we don’t,” the doctor replied.

“He seems calm now. Can’t you wait? Please?”

The orderlies hesitated. Then the doctor gave them a nod and they put the restraints away. Peter gave him a tired but grateful smile. They might be dying, but if he could spare Neal the distress of being tied down, it would be worth it. Peter ignored the little voice telling him that if the disease progressed, this choice might be taken away from them.

For a moment, he just watched Neal. Then he closed his eyes and tried to get some sleep.

 

* * *

 

Neal was woken up by the pressure in his back. He was positioned on his side and someone was holding him.

“It’s OK, the doctor is doing a spinal tab, he’s almost done.” Peter sounded relaxed and alive. Neal opened his eyes and saw Peter sitting next to his head. “The doctors think we have encephalitis.”

“Yeah, I was afraid of that. It’s one of the complications of the disease.”

The orderly let go when the doctor was ready and added an IV bag with fluids.

“You should stay on your back, to prevent headaches,” he told Neal, padding his shoulder in a reassuring gesture.

“They did this to you to?” Neal asked.

“Yeah, a while back, you were out for quite some time.” Peter gave Neal a tired smile. The medical staff left and it was just the two of them.

“We’re not going to get out of here anytime soon, are we?” Peter whispered.

“I guess not.”

They both fell silent, each absorbed in their own thoughts.

Peter was the first to speak up. “You ever saw that movie with Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman?”

“‘The Bucket List’?”

“Yeah, that’s the one.” Peter grinned, remembering the movie. “After seeing it, El and I made one each. You ever made one?”

“Not really, but I can think of some stuff I want to do before I died.” Neal looked almost nostalgic.

“Like what?” Peter was now getting curious.

“Participate in a color run.”

“Why would you want to do that?”

“Don’t know, it just looked like a fun thing to do. No particular reason. Your turn.”

“See the northern lights.”

“Good choice.”

“Don’t tell me you have seen them. Spill.”

Neal told him an entertaining story about an heiress, a hypothetical diamond necklace and an igloo hotel.

Peter chuckled. “Of course there was a girl involved. I should have guessed. Anyway, your turn. What else would you like to do?”

“Graduate college.”

“And here I thought you had two doctorates… allegedly.”

Neal sighed. “Allegedly… maybe I would like to do this for real this time.”

“Why didn’t you graduate college, really?” asked Peter curiously.

“That is a story for another time. Your turn.”

Peter realized he shouldn’t press Neal on this.

“OK, fair enough. Drink beer at the Oktoberfest in Munich. Maybe get El to wear one of those dresses.” Peter peered at Neal and saw the look on his face. “OK, guess you did that too.”

“Allegedly, I might have been in Munich at the end of September... You know it starts in September, right?”

“I didn’t know that, but I need to know, why would you be at the Oktoberfest. Your mark was an oversized German beer drinker?” Peter snickered.

“No, my mark was visiting the Drinktec, and I may or may not have posed as a sales representative. It is the World largest fair for liquid food, what better opportunity.”

“Liquid Food, that’s a good one. So you took him to a biergarten?”

“Well, technically, the mark was a she. And she was wearing a dirndl.”

“I should have known. Somehow there is always a girl involved. Did you get what you wanted from her?”

“Eventually, but it cost me part of my liver. Never underestimate a German woman when it comes to drinking. OK, my turn again. Slow dance in the rain.”

“That is a good one.” Peter fell silent, probably thinking of El. This was a stupid idea anyway, too many memories.

“Raise a child.” Peter whispered softly.

Neal took Peter’s hand.

“I miss her, there are so many things I wanted to do with her.” Peter trailed off, staring at the wall until he was able to compose himself. “OK, what else?”

“Jump in a poll of green jello.” Neal said sort of giggling.

“Wouldn’t have thought you had such folksy dreams. We are in a hospital environment. Maybe we can ask the staff if they can set it up in the bathtub that I saw.” Peter was now laughing out loud.

“Making fun of my wish, tell me one of yours.”

“Drive faster than 140 mph.”

“You do that every day when you drive to work. But that is my opinion.” Neal said smilingly.

“No, seriously.”

“You can do that when you go to the Oktoberfest. If you fly into Frankfurt am Main and rent a car, the autobahn between Frankfurt and Munich has no speed limit. I suggest an Audi R8.”

“Thanks for the tip.”

They were interrupted when a doctor came in and explained that they had both been diagnosed with encephalitis. Peter’s was more advanced but they were both getting anti-virals and the doctor also started Peter on anti-convulsions.

The nurse checked Peter’s vitals again before moving on to Neal. While his friend was busy, Peter contacted Diana, When she picked up, Peter immediately noticed her big smile.

“What’s up Diana?”

“ _Hughes made Mary a deal. She can see her kids if she tells us where we can find the antidote_.”

“Hughes was able to get such a deal with Child Protective Services?” Peter sounded skeptical; it was highly unlikely that they would jeopardize the kids by bringing them to a quarantine center.

“ _Yes, they eventually understood the gravity of the case_.”

“Why wouldn’t Mary have told the location to save herself? That way she could see her children anytime she wanted.” Peter rationally knew there had to be a catch, but couldn’t suppress the relief he felt, knowing there was a possibility that they would be able to make it anyway.

“ _I don’t know, Hughes is negotiating with all parties involved_.”

She told him that the whole office was worried about them and that everybody wished them well. Peter then asked her about some other cases, but it looked like Diana and Jones had everything under control.

“Neal, did you hear what Diana said?”

“Yes, I did, maybe they are able to convince her. Who knows?”

Once the doctor left, Neal got his marker and started drawing on Peter’s wall. Peter was content watching Neal create something, even if it was with a permanent marker on the wall.

Dinner was served, asparagus with ham and boiled eggs, covered with a butter sauce, per Neal’s request.

“This is not good.” Peter suddenly murmured while he was eating. “Don’t eat the food. Aren’t you smelling it, the meat is burned.”

“Peter, there is only ham. It’s cooked, so it can’t be burned.” Neal looked curiously at Peter, while pressing the nurse call button as Peter started to get more and more agitated. When the nurse came in, Neal described Peter’s behavior and the doctor nodded, clarifying that it was a symptom of the encephalitis. He then promised to add anti-seizure drugs to the cocktail that Peter and Neal were already getting. After some negotiating, the staff placed two beds next to each other. Peter quickly fell asleep, probably from all the drugs in his bloodstream.

Neal couldn’t get to sleep and continued drawing on the walls. He didn’t realize that his designs became more and more disturbing and erratic. He continued even after the marker ran out of ink. The orderly found him completely focused on his invisible drawings.

“Hey Neal, what are you drawing?” he asked gently, not wanting to spook Neal.

Neal gazed confusedly behind him. “None of your business!” he barked at the man, who backed off a bit, not wanting to provoke Neal.

“It’s OK, Neal, I’m just curious. How are you holding up?” The orderly gestured at his colleague to come in and assist.

“I, … I’m …” Neal faltered.

“Are you OK?” One of them inquired.

“OK?” Neal parroted.

“We think you need some rest, Neal.”

“No! “ Neal’s anxiety increased and he started pacing along the wall.

“No worries, that is OK. Let me just give you a new bag of anti-inflammatory medicine.”

Neal kept his eyes on the nurse who changed the empty bag so the other nurse distracted Neal and a mild sedative could be injected into his IV.

To distract Neal, the nurse gave him a new marker and Neal happily started drawing again. The designs Neal scribbled on the wall were getting more unbalanced as the sedative clouded Neal’s mind.

“This has to be a new record for a patient staying awake after I gave him this particular tranquilizer,” one of them remarked. Neal wasn’t really paying attention to them; as he was completely absorbed in his drawings. But eventually Neal started listing to one side and the nurses supported him back to the bed.

“The symptoms are getting worse; we need to up the anti-virals, maybe a different strand.” The doctor made a note in his journal.

Both Peter and Neal slept fitfully before being woken by the medical staff to check their vitals - drawing blood, changing IV bags and the rest of the daily morning routine. Peter asked if he could take a shower and he was escorted by a nurse into the bathroom. While he took his shower, the nurse noticed that Peter started to stare into nothingness.

“Peter, can you hear me?”

Peter didn’t respond and the orderly immediately pulled the call cord for assistance. Two orderlies came in and held Peter while a third pushed an anti-convulsive into his IV. Peter was then placed in a wheelchair while he slowly became more responsive.

“Peter, are you with us?” the nurse snapped his fingers in front of Peter, who looked startled.

“Yeah, just a headache, a bad one.” Peter wanted to get up out of the wheelchair but his left leg didn’t respond like he expected it to. “I can’t move my leg. What’s happening?”

“Stay put, we will get you back.”

Peter was brought back to the room, where Neal was having breakfast and talking to Mozzie on Skype. Mozzie had no news, but passed on June’s best wishes. Neal, quickly ended the conversation after promising Mozzie to Skype later.

“Hi P…” Neal took a deep breath. “Peter”.

“Is it a new symptom?”

“Yes, the doctor told me that the disease has found its way into the speech center of my brain.” Neal reluctantly confirmed.

“Is it a stutter?”

“Not exactly, sometimes, I can’t find the word in my memory, and sometimes, it feels like a stutter, I don’t know.”

“Damn it.”

They finished their breakfast in silence and Peter asked Neal if it was OK if he talked to El alone. Neal left the room to take a shower while Peter started up the tablet.

After Peter’s last episode, the techs were not taking any chances anymore, so one of them followed Neal to the bathroom while he took a shower. At first, Neal was a bit disturbed by the loss of privacy, but he soon started enjoying the warm water, even forgetting for a moment the nurse that stayed with him. Then again, if his caregiver wasn’t bothered by being in a shower with a naked man while wearing the hazmat suit, then there was no reason why Neal shouldn’t take advantage of it and simply enjoy himself.

Neal took his time, giving Peter the privacy he needed to talk to El. Neal’s heart bled for Peter. He didn’t want his friend to go through this sort of grief. To not be able to hold your loved one while you know you are dying. He could see how much it hurt Peter.

When Neal’s fingers resembled pink prunes, he got out of the shower and put on the fresh scrubs that someone laid out for him. He slowly made his way back to their room, when he heard the commotion in the room. He quickly took the last couple of steps and tried to oversee the chaos in the room. Neal was pulled aside by a tech and heard El frantic voice demanding to know what was going on over from the tablet that laid discarded on Peter’s bed. He quickly picked up the tablet, telling El that everything would be OK and that the doctors were already taking care of Peter.

“ _Neal? Peter sounded so confused. What is going on_?” El tried to calm down now that she could see that Neal was holding the tablet. “ _I asked Peter what he was talking about, because he didn’t make any sense and he got upset and angry. Is he OK_?”

El sounded so distressed that it broke Neal’s heart.

“I’m sorry El, P.. Peter has … encephalitis. Confusion and agitation are symptoms of the disease.” Neal was at a loss of words when he saw El’s worried face. Finally, he asked: “How are you holding up? How is … Satchmo?”

“ _We’re fine, but I’m worried about you guys_. _I’m coming over; let me talk to the doctor_.”

“El, they won’t let you in, you know that.”

Neal found comfort in the fact that El was worried for both of them and not only Peter. “We’re fine, but maybe you can make Peter a care …package. It could ground him a bit, having things from home here. Could you spare a… sweater or so with your perfume on it? Do you have pictures? Maybe you can send them over, so he can watch them.”

“ _Yeah, sure, why didn’t I think of that?”_

“El, the doctor wants to talk to me, I will S…Swipe you in a little while, OK? Take care.”

Neal put the tablet down and looked up at the doctor.

“How’s … P… he?” Neal realized that his speech was getting worse.

“Not so good, I’m afraid, he is becoming more confused, agitated and his memory is also beginning to falter. We’re taking him next door for a brain MRI. I’m worried his brain is swelling. And while we’re at it, I also want you to have an MRI; I don’t like your stutter. It’s getting worse.”

“OK.” Neal felt off, this was going way faster than he had anticipated.

“We will knock Peter out, as he has to be still in the MRI, and in his current agitated state, that would be impossible,” the doctor explained. “Don’t worry, he will be just sedated.”

Neal walked over to Peter and took his hand in his. Peter looked confused at Neal, just staring at him, the sedation already taking over Peter’s mind.

“You will be OK. Look at me. Peter?”

Peter looked so lost. Neal gripped his hand harder but Peter became anxious again, and Neal could see that the tech injected extra sedative into his IV as Peter’s eyes glazed over and the fight left Peter.

“I… I’m here Peter.” Neal followed the gurney into the other room where they had placed a portable MRI. Neal sat down next to the tech while he watched two orderlies prepping Peter on the machine’s bed. Neal dozed off while the machine scanned Peter’s brain, because he startled awake when a nurse shook his shoulder.

“Your turn.”

Neal got up and stumbled over his own feet.

“You’re OK?” the nurse looked concerned.

“Yeah, I … … ‘m fine.” he walked up to the machine and laid down trying to keep his anxiety under control. The tech placed earplugs in his ears and then placed the grid over his head, immobilizing it.

“How are you holding up? You will be able to hear us and talk to us; if something is wrong, push this button.”“ The tech placed a button in Neal’s right hand.

“I’m fine, let…’s get this over with.”

The tech left the room and the machine came to life. The noise was so loud that Neal became anxious. He felt his heart rate increase and gasped for breath.

“Try to stay calm, Neal.”

He smelled burned flesh. Was the machine malfunctioning? Why did nobody get him out?

“Neal? NEAL! I need you to lay still,” he heard the tech, but couldn’t understand why the tech wanted him to lay still. Why didn’t he do something, help him? He was pushing the button the nurse had given him.

“Can’t you … smell it…” Neal’s breathing hitched. “Help,” he gulped out, not hearing that the machine had been shutdown.

Two techs pulled the bed out of the machine, but they were not releasing Neal.

“He is having an aura, he is going to seize, push the Ativan.” Neal was now really scared and he tried to get off the bed.

“Neal, I want you to listen to me, you’re OK, you’re having a seizure, you’re safe. You will feel better in a minute.”

A mask was placed over his face.

“Take deep breaths.” one of the techs said. Neal’s panic increased and he was gasping for air, relaxing more with every breath he took in the mask.

“He’s out, let’s get him back into the machine.”

 

* * *

 

Neal woke up settled on his side, looking into a pair of brown eyes.

“Hey.” His voice was really raspy.

“How are you feeling?“ Peter looked concerned, so it had to be bad.

“Hot, tired… what’s the …word… like you need to vomit?

“Nauseous?” Peter carefully got up and took the basin as Neal visibly pales.

“It’s the new anti-virals they have us on. We both have brain swelling, mine worse than yours, but hey, I wasn’t hallucinating.” Peter smiled at Neal.

“So, it wasn’t a dream?”

“Well, part of it was, the smell was an aura, it indicates that you were about to have a seizure,” Peter explained.

“So Peter also has brain swelling?”

“Yes, I have. The doctors told me I have a left sided weakness and that I get agitated for no good reason,” said Peter.

“Yeah, I saw that for myself. You should …Skype El, she must be… going happy, no… that s not right, I ...”

Neal’s speech was getting a slurring quality and his confusion was getting worse, worrying Peter, but he felt better on the new anti-virals, so he was confident Neal would to.

Neal was so tired, he let his eyes close, but Peter was asking him something, or saying something, he couldn’t distinguish which one.

“Don’t talk to me because you are bored. I…’m not here to en… entertain you.” Neal spat out.

Peter looked surprised and wanted to retort, when the nurse came in with heir dinner. Peter had asked for spare ribs and roasted chicken for Neal, but he was already asleep.

“It’s OK, just let him sleep, we will make sure he gets his nutrients. Neal is not responding to the anti-virals like we hoped. His fever is back up.” The nurse sounded concerned, which didn’t help Peter’s anxiety.

“Can you bring some Greek yoghurt and honey, Neal really likes that; maybe I can feed him when he wakes.”

“Yeah, sure, good idea, I will see to it.”

“Is he in pain? He doesn’t look comfortable.” Peter noticed the lines in Neal´s face.

“We’re taking care of your friend, you rest, let the medicine do its job.”

Another orderly brought in mail, so Peter turned to see what it was. There were get-well cards. June had sent one with a drawing of Samantha on it that Neal would love, while the FBI White Collar unit had sent an oversized card with all of their signatures. There was also a big box from El. Peter opened it and inside was one of her sweaters, the one he always like. When he gently picked it up and brought it to his face, it smelled like her. Peter stayed like this for a while. Eventually he put the sweater down on his pillow and looked in the box. There were cross word puzzles, Sudoku puzzles, pastels for Neal with some sort of high quality sketch book, Neal would probably appreciate it. And the cherry on the icing was a book of government conspiracies. Peter chuckled, only Mozzie.

“I’m going to Skype my wife.” Peter tried his best to hide the limp that was more persistent than we wanted to admit. He started the tablet and logged in, El almost immediately picking up.

“ _Hon…”_

“Hi hon, sorry about worrying you earlier.”

“ _It’s OK. It was the disease talking. How are you feeling_?”

“Good, considering. The doc has me on different medication, and all things considered, I feel OK.”

“ _How’s Neal_?”

Peter turned he tablet and showed her how Neal was sleeping. He was restless, tossing, turning and mumbling, a thin sheen of sweat covering his face.

“ _Is he OK?”_ El asks worried.

“No, … no, he isn’t.” Peter whispered, not wanting Neal to hear the truth. “The doc is worried that the new anti-virals are not working on him, like they do on me.”

“ _And what is your prognosis_?” El enquired.

“Definitely encephalitis, but they are treating it and I feel OK, I guess.” Peter almost dropped the tablet when Neal started screaming. He quickly said goodbye to El and promised to talk to her soon. Peter tried to get up, but discovered that his right leg wouldn’t obey him. He started talking to Neal, trying to calm him while pushing the nurse button to call for help.

Neal’s eyes were open and he kept screaming on the top of his lungs. He definitely didn’t see Peter or the two orderlies that entered the room. Suddenly, he jumped off the bed with a speed Peter hadn’t believed possible. His IV-pole crashed to the floor and he pulled his IVs out of the back of his hand backing away from the three men in the room.

“You are going to be OK. Calm down, we’re here to help you, not to hurt you.”

But Neal tried to melt into the wall he backed into, his eyes frantically searching for a way out. When the two orderlies approached him, his face changed from utter fear to aggression and he charged them. The nurses had to be careful not to breach their hazmat suits, while trying to restrain Neal.

Two extra men entered the room. Between the four of them, they were finally able to hold Neal down, manhandling him onto the bed. A doctor came in and injected Neal with something and Neal went slack immediately. They repositioned Neal on the bed and placed him in restraints.

“Why are you restraining him?” asked Peter confusedly. They already had Neal sedated, why would they want to restrain him as well?

“We need to talk.” The doctor sounded serious and Peter was getting anxious again. “Mary died earlier this evening..”

“Did you get the antidote?” Peter sounded really hopeful, but his heart sank when he saw the face of the doctor.

“No, we didn’t, in the end she was too delusional. I’m sorry.”

If Peter was honest, he was not really surprised, Neal had explained Mary’s motives to him. But he had hoped that she would make a rational decision instead of an emotional one.

“We did our best to keep her alive, we thought she would tell us where she had hidden the antidote, once she was convinced they would let her see her children. We believe she was exposed to the virus before your encounter. We’re worried that Neal was also exposed in this earlier event, as he is deteriorating much quicker than you are, even though your dose at exposure was higher.”

Both men’s attention was pulled towards Neal as he started moaning and struggling against the restraints. The doctor took his temperature and didn’t look pleased.

“Is there something you are not telling me? Peter probed.

“His fever is increasing. The anti-virals that seem to work on you, are not working on Neal.”

Even though Neal was sedated, he was getting more restless and started pulling at his bindings. Because the doctor was getting concerned, he had Neal hooked up on monitoring equipment. Peter could see for himself that Neal was not doing well. His heart rate and blood pressure were rising. The doctor pushed different meds and a nurse handed Peter a bowl of lukewarm water and a wash cloth. When Peter looked at her confusedly, she explained: “It will make him more comfortable. I know it doesn’t look professional, but it will feel good to Neal, even in his unconscious state.”

Glad to be able to do something for Neal, Peter picked up the cloth, wetted it and started to rub it gently over Neal’s throat, wrist and finally laid it on his forehead.

“Come on Neal, we are a team, don’t abandon your team mate.”

Hearing Peter’s voice, Peter thought that Neal relaxed a bit. Taking that as encouragement, Peter continued.

“I need you to be OK. I want my family to be OK and you are family, Neal. I told you before I regretted not having children. El is my soul mate Neal, And even though we can’t have children, El is my everything. In the beginning we wanted to know why we couldn´t have children, but there seems to be no reason. It must be karma telling us that we are not destined to raise children. But Neal, you are our family.

Peter swallowed against the lump in his throat and closed his eyes, not even bothering to hide his tears.

“You’ll be okay, do you hear me? You can fight this. Our story won’t end here, not like this.”

He kept talking while washing Neal’s throat and face. Sometime later, a nurse came and took away the bowl and the cloth, Eventually Peter fell asleep in the chair next to Neal’s bed.

 

* * *

 

Peter opened his eyes, not knowing what had woken him. He saw that Neal’s eyes were open and that he was studying Peter in confusion. Without warning Neal’s confusion increased, resulting in him screaming at Peter.

“Let me … go, Peter will find me. He always finds me.”

Peter was both shocked and touched by Neal’s statement. He tried to calm Neal down, but he only became more irritated. The doctor that came in examined Neal but didn’t dare to push more sedatives, so they let Neal ramble on while monitoring him closely.

Suddenly Neal paled and gagged and Peter fumbled to release one of the wrist restraints so Neal could bend over to retch. Peter picked up a bowl and held it in place until Neal was done, even though there wasn’t much in his stomach to begin with. He then took the washcloth to wipe Neal’s face.

“It’s OK, just relax, it will be OK.”

But the agitation was still very present in Neal and before Peter could react, Neal bit down on his own wrists, deep enough for blood to gush out. Peter looked at him in horror, not sure what to do but he screamed for help, trying to withhold Neal from biting down again. To Peter’s horror, he saw that Neal had a piece of his own skin in his mouth.

A doctor and two orderlies stormed into the room and Neal was held down and gagged while the doctor examined the wounds to his wrist.

“Push Propofol, I will intubate him.”

When Neal relaxed, the doctor quickly removed the gag and intubated him while a nurse brought in a suture kit. Peter was escorted to his bed and asked if he wanted to sleep in the other room.

Peter was still in shock but told them he wanted to stay with Neal. “This is it, isn’t it?” he quietly asked.

“I am afraid auto cannibalism is one of the final stages. It was in Mary’s case. We will place him in a medical induced coma and try different anti-virals.”

“I want to stay with him.” Peter said defeated.

“That’s OK.” The doctor started closing the wound on Neal’s wrist, explaining that it was definitely going to leave a scar.

Peter wasn’t listening. He had seen Neal’s future. He would die a horrible death, eating himself if they let him.

When the doctor finished bandaging the wound, one of the techs arrived with a tray with two IV bags and two syringes. The doctor explained to Peter that he would stay on the drugs he was on now as his fever reduced and he wasn’t showing advanced symptoms like Neal. However Neal needed to be treated more aggressively and they were going to try an experimental drug.

“You are going to use him as a guinea pig?” Peter stated bluntly.

“Yes, at this point, it is his only chance.”

 

* * *

 

Over the following days, Peter continued to improve. He had been given a new MRI and the swelling in his brain was residing.

Peter kept vigil at Neal’s bed, talking to him. Neal seemed unaware of what was going on around him. Peter sat by his bed, solving cross word puzzles on his tablet, while asking Neal to help him solve them.

He studied the case files Diana sent him, discussing them with his team over Skype. El teased him that his Angry Birds record was sky high by now. Peter was so bored that he had asked for a model airplane kit. He built it in a record time, having no distractions. The longest he waited was for the glue and paint to dry.

Neal was again wheeled to the MRI and Peter was beginning to lose hope. Neal looked gaunt and even though they were feeding him through a feeding tube, he has lost weight and muscle tone.

Peter was Skyping with Diana about what was going on at the White Collar unit when Neal was brought back into the room. The doctor followed him and was smiling when he entered the room.

“What’s the verdict?” Peter asked tensely.

“Actually, it is better than what we expected. Neal is doing well, all things considering, the swelling in his brain is decreasing, so it seems that the medicines are working. I’m confident that he can fight this. But I also have good news for you. The virus cleared out of your system, we are admitting you to a regular hospital.”

“What about Neal?”

“He has to stay here, as the virus is not completely gone.”

“How much longer until you know whether he will make a full recovery.”

“We can only guess, let’s first wait if he keeps improving like this.”

“Can I stay?”

Peter said it before his brain had the time to process what this meant. He felt horrible that he was letting El down. He would do anything to hold El, to be able to smell her, feel her, kiss her, but he couldn’t leave Neal here all alone in this cold medical environment, not while he was still this sick.

He hoped that El would understand.

 

* * *

 

When the doctor thought that Neal was ready, they started weening Neal off the sedation, and three days later, Neal started to show signs of awareness. He was no longer agitated, so the medical staff saw that as a good sign. A couple of hours later, Neal coughed and Peter pressed the call button and got up. He picked up his cane that stood next to his bed. The weakness in his left leg was persistent. He slowly walked over to Neal and put his hand on his chest.

“Come on Neal, can you wake up for me, please?”

Neal’s eyes fluttered but didn’t open. But Peter was not giving up that easily and he kept coaxing Neal.

“Neal, it is Christmas night. I’m all alone here. I’m bored, I miss your witty comments”

It took some time for Neal to open his eyes, but finally Peter was met with an unfocused gaze. Neal fell back asleep before he could say anything, but Peter was overjoyed and picked up his tablet to talk to El. He told her the good news before he even greeted her – the doctors were cautiously optimistic that the brainpox in Neal was in regression, although he hadn’t been conscious enough to be assessed by his doctors.

Peter could see El sitting in their living room with the Christmas tree in the background and Satchmo next to her on the couch. His throat constricted when he saw the scene on his screen. El told him about her parents visiting her, and that they sent him their best wishes. Peter smiled sadly. He so wished he was home, enjoying the down time with El at home, watching corny Christmas movies and drinking mulled wine.

When they said everything there was to say, Peter left the Skype on while El was reading a book. Peter sat next to Neal, trying to get him to wake up again. When Neal finally moaned, El joined in and also started talking to Neal.

“Hi, Neal, how are you? It’s time to wake up now. You have been sleeping long enough.”

Peter squeezed Neal’s hand and ran his fingers through Neal’s somewhat greasy hair. He even held his cup of June’s coffee next to Neal and slowly blew the steam towards Neal in an attempt to rouse him.

Unconsciously, Neal leaned into the touch, but didn’t really wake up. Eventually he started to stir and Peter could see that Neal really tried to find his way back into awareness. When he finally opened his eyes, Peter and El both were ecstatic. Neal frowned and startled a bit when a nurse came in to see what all the commotion was about.

The doctor was called and after examining Neal, they decided to remove the breathing tube. Neal was somewhat out of it, but conscious enough to understand Peter’s soothing words during all the stress of the removal. Breathing on his own was a big step in Neal’s recovery.

 

* * *

 

Neal was still not as lucid as the doctors would have liked, but he was improving over the days. Peter’s recovery was miraculous; his only problem was the persistent weakness in his left side, especially his left leg. But Peter coped and worked hard with his therapists. He had some additional case files sent over so he could go through them, despite his team telling him to enjoy the break.

Neal had a lot of nightmares and wasn’t always aware what was real and what wasn’t. The doctors pushed Peter to be transferred to a regular hospital, now Neal was awake and doing better, but El and Peter discussed it at length and although they missed each other more than anything, in the end El told Peter that Neal currently needed him more as he was not always grounded in the here and now. El was feeling better now she knew that Peter would be OK and that he could leave if there was a problem. They Skyped each other every day, sometimes not even talking, just having the link open, so they could hear and see each what the other one was doing.

Still, Peter knew that his decision to stay with Neal and the resulting separation were weighting on El, so he asked if he could speak the doctor in charge.

“Is there any chance that I could see my wife?”

“Well, to be honest, we don’t encourage healthy people visiting the quarantine zone due of the risk of spreading the infection.”

“We would follow any safety measures you proposed. I just want to see my wife, doctor.”

“Well…“ The doctor paused. “Maybe we could make an exception in this case. But I must warn you, we will have her wear a bio hazard suit. I don’t want to take any chances and we will have the meeting in another room. We can’t risk exposing her to Neal.”

“Thank you. You don’t know what that means to me.” Peter swallowed hard.

“I think I can imagine.” The doctor gave him a sympathetic smile. ”Just give us some time to make the arrangements.”

Two days later, an emotional El was standing in one of the rooms with an even more emotional Peter. They hugged, even though; it felt strange with the hazmat suit between them and not being able to kiss. But they both had missed each other so much that this little inconvenience didn’t bother them.

“Oh hon.” El smiled with tears in her eyes.

She had brought Neal´s silk pajamas, shampoo and shaving crème with her and some big markers in all sorts of colors.

“Maybe you can give him a shave; it will probably make Neal feel better. I also brought his aftershave.”

“I will.” Peter promised.

 

* * *

 

El, June and Mozzie skyped regulary with Neal, even if he was mostly semi-conscious. Peter would position the tablet next to Neal’s head, so Neal could see and hear them when he opened his eyes. He often smiled, even while it looked like he was sleeping, just listening to them talking or Peter bickering with Mozzie, not really aware of his surroundings, but lulled into feeling safe by the familiarity of their voices.

The techs had brought in a system where Neal’s hair could be washed while he was laying down in bed. Peter had washed his hair carefully and then had shaved him. Neal was awake during the whole exercise and was smiling, not saying anything, but Peter could see he was content. When they were done, Neal almost immediately fell asleep.

Mozzie would read Neal books over Skype, and always a title that would annoy Neal to no end, trying to provoke a reaction out of Neal.

When he read ’The Jesus Papers’, Neal finally had enough.

“Don’t like this.” He said and turned his head to the other side.

Peter gave a chuckle and Mozzie acted all disappointed, but he was happy to get a reaction out of him.

Neal’s bed was next to the wall and Neal sometimes wrote with his finger on the wall, so the medical staff gave him a marker.

From then on Peter would wake up in the middle of the night finding Neal scribbling on the wall. The first drawings were very disturbing, but now they started more to look like modern art. They were not nearly looking like what Neal used to draw, but it was better than nothing as Neal was not very vocal since he woke up.

“Come on Neal, tell me what you see on the picture.” The therapist was smiling at Neal.

“I … see a very an…noying… therapist,” Neal gritted.

But the therapist was not discouraged by Neal’s dark moods and he kept coaxing Neal to talk.

The psychologist that was assigned to them thought it was healthy that Neal was drawing, no matter how disturbing some of the pictures were.

Slowly Neal regained more strength. He worked hard with his speech therapist, and the better Neal’s speech got, the more cheerful the drawings became.

The highlight in his recovery was when he no longer needed the special cutlery they had given him when he first started eating again. It looked like toddler cutlery but in adult size, and Neal had worked hard with the occupational therapist to get rid of the damn things as soon as possible.

 

* * *

 

In the second week of January, the CDC-doctors were convinced that the two of them were no longer a thread to the general public. They were transferred to Mount Sinai, where they were met by El and June. Neal saw Mozzie duck away outside the hospital when he saw them, he would prpbably visit him somewhere during the night. The moment Peter was wheeled in, El ran towards him, tears flowing freely. Peter also choked up and June walked over to Neal, giving him a big hug.

“Mozzie was here” June told him.

“I know, I … saw …”

Neal felt embarrassed that his speech was still not up to par. He had made remarkable progress, but sometimes he couldn’t find the words he was looking for and when he was tired, he started slurring and stuttering.

But everybody around him acted normal and Neal was slowly rebuilding his confidence with every passing day. Within two weeks of being admitted, they were discharged from the hospital. Both Neal and Peter had almost daily appointments with therapists, but they were allowed to further recuperate at home. That was a big relief especially for Peter, who had missed El so much that it hurt physical.

Peter’s recovery sped up in the presence of El and thanks to the walks with Satchmo. Luckily Satchmo was not a young dog anymore, so he walked patiently next to Peter, who was still not happy with his cane.

Diana and Jones visited Peter bearing gifts for the White Collar unit. They had gotten Neal and Peter tickets to the Yankee’s. They made Peter’s day, but he was not so sure about Neal. But Neal had laughed when he heard what they had gotten and he was a sport about it.

 

* * *

 

They eventually went back to work, though it took time before they were cleared for field work. They were both miserable in the office going over cold cases, but they were willing to admit that they were physically not ready to chase bad guys.

After yet another miserable day at the office, Peter and Neal were glad it was Friday night. Just before they wanted to leave, the telephone rang.

“Burke.”

“Hi, this is Billy from the reception, there is someone asking for you and Mr. Caffrey. He says he is June Ellington’s driver and that he is here to pick you up.”

“Tell him we will be done in a couple of minutes.”

Peter called Neal and they closed shop for the night. They quickly made their way down and were met by a smiling Charles.

“I’ve been sent to pick you up and bring you back to miss June.”

“Lead… the way.” Neal followed Charles to the Bentley.

When they arrived at June’s, the house was magically lit. Peter and Neal exchanged a look as they were welcomed by June. They heard noises in the background, but it couldn’t be…

June smiled at them. “Come in. Everybody’s already waiting for you.”

A Christmas party was in full swing. Christmas songs played in the background and the mansion even smelled like Christmas.

When they were led into the living room, they were greeted by El, Sara, Moz, the Harvard crew and even the medical staff of the CDC quarantine unit.

“You missed Christmas, so we thought we would just celebrate it when you where both back home. No Christmas without all your loved ones.”

“Thanks June.” Neal managed to choke out.His eyes became glossy and shining.

When he looked around, he could see that Peter held El in a bear hug and he hadn’t been able to contain himself either. The rest of the party were also moved. Some of them tactfully left the room to give them some privacy.

Peter and he were both touched that so many people cared about them, and they secretly enjoyed the attention.

When the emotions calmed, they thanked everyone for their continuous support and enjoyed a wonderful belated Christmas.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
Epilogue

 

“Danke, wo finden wir die PKW?”´Neal asked smiling at the desk clerk of the car rental service.

“Im parking A5.” The girl gave Neal a blinding smile. Peter could only roll his eyes.

“Danke schön. Let’s go Peter.”

They quickly made their way to Parking lot A5 and saw the Audi R8. It was black and sleek and Peter looked at it in awe.

“Neal, are you sure this is a good idea?”

Neal grinned before tossing Peter the keys. “You drive, and remember, no speed limit once we’re on the autobahn. Let’s see what she’s got.”

Peter needed some adjusting to the hand kludged car, but soon, they drove on the autobahn and Peter floored the car, a big smile on his face.

“Munich, here we come…”

 


End file.
